


Camp Sweetwater

by breathewords



Series: Gold Rays: Bughead Summer 2018 [3]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Buggie Break, Camp Bughead, Fluff, More Fluff, More angst, Some minor smut, Summer Camp, angst again, fluff again, major bughead, minor varchie - Freeform, sleep away camp vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-27 17:03:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15689673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breathewords/pseuds/breathewords
Summary: Betty Cooper returns to the same summer camp every year. This summer, she plans to finally tell her fellow counselor in training and best friend, Archie Andrews, how she feels. But you know what they say about the best laid plans...OrBetty pines after Archie until she meets the newest counselor in training, who captures not just her eye, but her heart as well.Written for day 30 of Camp Bughead: Summer Camp.





	Camp Sweetwater

Betty was seven years old the first time her parents sent her away to camp. As was the case with most little girls, she didn’t want to go. In fact, Alice didn’t want her to go, either. But Camp Sweetwater was a tradition in Hal Cooper’s family, and Betty was born to carry on their legacy, so off she went.

That first year, as soon as the car rolled onto the unpaved dirt road, spitting up pebbles and dust, Betty burst into tears. She cried as her mother checked her in with a counselor. It continued as they walked through the screen door to her cabin. And she still hadn’t stopped when Alice helped her make her bed before saying goodbye.

“Don’t cry, baby girl,” she remembers her dad telling her. “These are gonna be the best summers of your life.”

Most of Betty’s memories of her father are tainted now, but he was right about that. So when she makes the drive back to camp for her first year as a counselor in training, this time in her own car, she can hardly wait to see the painted wooden sign and bumpy path that mean she’s made it to her summer home. The camp lifestyle didn’t really stick for Betty’s older sister Polly, but it suits Betty well.

She also can’t wait to see Archie Andrews, her fellow CIT and best friend of nine years.

* * *

_Betty sits on the dock, little painted toes in the water, missing home badly. Her daddy promised this summer would be one of the best of her life, but so far, it’s been no fun at all. There’s no air conditioning in her bunk, and she has bug bites all over her legs, and the peanut butter and jelly in the dining hall make all the utensils sticky, and the Blossom twins keep throwing sticks at her when the counselors aren’t looking._

_Safe to say, her summer is not going according to plan. So, when she feels the dock shake slightly under her thighs, she expects it to be Jason or Cheryl coming up to tease her, or push her in the water, or worse. But when she turns around, it’s a different redhead she sees._

_“Hi, my name’s Archie,” the boy tells her. “I’m seven.”_

_“Me, too,” Betty says softly._

_“Cool.” He sits down next to her. “What’s your name?”_

_“Betty,” she says with a little more confidence._

_“Wanna see me skip a rock?” he asks, brandishing one from the pocket of his mesh shorts._

_She nods eagerly and sure enough, he makes the pebble jump across the surface of the lake._

_“Can you teach me?!”_

_He does, and they’re inseparable after that._

* * *

“Archie!”

She spots a head of vibrant red hair as soon as she parks her car and launches herself into his arms.

“Cooper! Welcome back.”

She holds onto him for a long time. They stay in touch throughout the year, but she doesn’t actually get to see him, to feel his arms around her, to hear his voice in her ear - except during summer. He smells like freshly cut grass and summer and everything a boy should smell like. His arms feel stronger than last year.

“Check-ins have been brutal,” he says into her hair. “Parents get crazier and crazier every year, I swear.”

Betty blanches slightly, but recovers quickly.

“You’re telling me,” she says.

Archie’s eyes widen as he realizes his mistake. He knew before Betty’s text came, of course. It was all over the news, and even though Archie’s not really one to read the paper, he couldn’t help but notice the breaking news alert roll across the bottom of his screen as he watched baseball. The serial killer that had been terrorizing a small town had been arrested and identified as Hal Cooper. That was national news. His face was plastered on every station and paper, and it was a face Archie recognized even before Betty finally got in touch to share the details and talk through some of her misplaced guilt.

“Shit, Betty, I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay, Arch, really. I’m fine. We’re gonna have a good summer. The best.”

* * *

_It’s raining, which means movie night at Camp Sweetwater. The head counselor makes the call during dinner, at which point Archie proceeds to stand up on the bench he’s sharing with Betty and some of the other third-year campers, take off his shirt, and wave it around in the air. The dining hall bursts into laughter, and Betty giggles as she tugs his hand to get him to sit down before he steps in her mashed potatoes or kicks her bug juice._

_They separate for a little after dinner, each heading back to their designated cabins to shower off the grime from the lake; but Archie finds Betty with ease before the movie starts, even amongst the rest of the ten-year-old girls walking to the rec room. She’s chatting with Midge Klump about the merits of dolphins versus horses when he interrupts._

_“Betty, Moose and I wanna do a piggyback race to the rec room! Be my partner?”_

_She nods eagerly, always willing to help a friend in need, especially when that friend is Archie. He’s gotten a little taller this year, she noticed, so she decides that’ll make the ride even more fun._

_“You too, Midge!” Archie says. “You can be Moose’s partner.”_

_The dark-haired girl agrees easily, and they take their places at an arbitrary starting line._

_“Ready, set, go!” announces Kevin Keller, another one of Betty’s close camp friends._

_Archie takes off, and Betty wraps her arms more securely around his neck. She shrieks with glee as they cut through the other campers, and tumbles off Archie’s back as he launches them through the door of the rec room just before Moose and Midge._

_The four of them secure spots at the front of the room and settle in to watch_ The Incredibles, _a camp favorite. Halfway through the movie, Archie leans toward Betty and offers her a Tic Tac from a pack in his pocket. Mints, candy, and gum are contraband at camp, so he’s taking a risk pulling these out in a room full of counselors. Betty accepts anyway, fingers brushing Archie’s palm as she reaches for the mint._

_That’s when Betty first realizes she has a crush on Archie._

* * *

Betty’s face hurts from smiling and she’s almost done checking campers in when a town car rolls into the lot and a girl about her age steps out. She’s wearing a CIT t-shirt and jean shorts, typical camp attire, but she’s also got a string of pearls around her neck, and her sneakers are definitely designer. Before Betty can properly wonder what a girl like that is doing at a summer camp in the middle of the woods, the girl is standing tall in front of her, hand outstretched.

“Veronica Lodge,” she says by way of introduction. “New CIT. Mind pointing me in the direction of our cabin?”

“Uh, sure,” Betty says, a little caught off guard. Typically, CITs are longtime campers, but she’s never seen this girl before in her life.

Betty gives Veronica directions and watches her trail a way-too-large suitcase toward one of the CIT cabins. She can’t keep the scowl off her face when she notices Veronica give Archie the once-over. Archie is Betty’s, he always has been, and this is the summer they’re going to make it official. This summer, they’re going to be more than friends. And they’re going to share more than one lousy kiss.

* * *

_“Truth or dare?” Cheryl Blossom asks one night in early August when Betty and Archie are twelve._

_They’re sitting around a fire with a few other campers, the boys roasting marshmallows and the girls weaving bracelets secured to their legs with duct tape when Cheryl decides it’s time to stir up trouble. Betty just hopes she’s not the target._

_“Dare,” Archie says easily. He’s been infamous for accepting dares this summer, and his list of accomplishments includes stealing an entire tray of hot dogs from the dining hall, jumping into the lake fully clothed after swim hours, and several other questionable offenses._

_“I dare you to kiss someone in this circle,” Cheryl says. “Why not… Betty?”_

_“I can’t kiss Betty,” Archie says. “She’s my best friend.”_

_“That’s why it’s perfect,” Cheryl explains. “Kissing only makes you better friends.”_

_“I don’t know,” Archie says, eyes flicking to Betty for the first time since Cheryl appeared._

_Betty just shrugs her shoulders. She knows Cheryl’s probably trying to humiliate her, but she’s also been daydreaming about what Archie’s lips would feel like on her own for the past two summers now and can’t deny that she’s fond of the older girl’s idea._

_“See?” Cheryl asks. “Betty’s cool with it.”_

_“As long as you don’t mind, Betts,” Archie says. “To keep my dare record up.”_

_Betty tries to keep her voice steady as she replies, “Yeah, whatever.”_

_And then Archie is swooping in to kiss her on the lips. It’s quick and they bump noses, but goosebumps still erupt on Betty’s skin and her stomach twists in knots. Her first kiss. And it’s at camp, with Archie. Granted, nearly every other camper in her year is looking on, and she can hear Cheryl laughing, and the kiss wasn’t exactly Archie’s idea, but nevertheless, she got what she wanted._

_“How’d I do?” Archie asks, still hovering close to her face._

_“G-good,” she stutters._

_That night, she falls asleep with her fingers fluttering over her lips, wishing Archie’s kiss had lasted longer, and maybe that he would have been wearing a little more chapstick._

* * *

“How’d you do?” Archie asks, coming over to relieve Betty of check-in duty.

“My face is about to break from smiling, but other than that, no problems. A few hysterical kids and helicopter moms, but I remember what that was like.”

Archie gives her a sympathetic look and then asks, “Hey, did you see the new girl?”

“Yeah, Veronica. She’s a CIT, too.”

“I heard they hired two outsiders this year.”

“Really?” Betty asks. “Another?”

That’s when the motorcycle pulls up. Betty doesn’t think she’s ever known someone who rides a motorcycle, so even without the loud engine, it would have caught her attention. The boy who climbs off is also dressed in a camp-issued t-shirt and jeans. She catches a glimpse of his hair as he removes his helmet; it’s dark and falling in thick waves across his forehead. He quickly replaces the helmet with a beanie. She thinks it’s an odd choice for summer, but bites her tongue as he makes his way over to her and Archie.

As he approaches their check-in desk, his eyes flick around nervously, carefully taking in his surroundings. Betty wonders what made the camp decide to hire not one, but two new staffers this year.

“Uh, hi, is this where the CITs check in?” he asks. “I’m Jughead… I’m new,” he says unnecessarily.

“Yeah!” Archie says. “Sweet, we’re bunkmates! Cabin is that-a-way, and we’re meeting with Mr. Weatherbee and the other head counselors before the Welcome Dinner at 5.”

“Cool,” the boy says. Then he’s gone before Betty can get his name, because she’s sure she misheard him.

“Shit,” she says to Archie. “I forgot to tell Veronica about the meeting and Welcome Dinner. I should probably go track her down.”

Betty bids Archie goodbye and makes her way over to the cabins, waving to several veteran campers she spots on the tennis courts, playing tetherball, or otherwise occupied with catching up after a long school year.

When she walks into her bunk, she picks Veronica’s bed out of the bunch easily. It’s already made up with silk sheets, and the new girl is spread out on her stomach, ankles crossed and reading a magazine.

“Hey!” Veronica says, beating Betty to the punch. “I never got your name earlier.”

“Betty Cooper.”

“Well, nice to meet you, Betty. You been coming here a long time?”

“Eight years.”

“Figures,” Veronica says, looking slightly crestfallen.

Suddenly, Betty feels bad for her. Even if she did make eyes at Archie, Veronica is the new girl at a camp filled with life-long friends, so Betty vows to make an effort to be nice to her. She mentally adds it to her summer checklist, right underneath confessing her feelings to Archie.

The girls make plans to head to the meeting together, and Betty gets started on the task of settling in. She makes her bed, shoves her trunk underneath, and meticulously arranges photos and posters on her wall. At 3:30, the sun is still high in the sky, and it filters in through the screen door of her cabin, making the whole room feel like a sauna. She doesn’t have any other duties until the meeting, and although she should probably stay up to greet the other CITs who are filtering in, she’s exhausted from being on her feet all morning, and promptly falls asleep.

Veronica wakes her up with five minutes to spare, and the pair sprint over to the staff meeting. Betty spots Kevin when they arrive and throws her arms around him in greeting.

“Betty Cooper, you get more and more gorgeous every year,” he says.

“Oh, he’s flirtatious,” Veronica says.

“And gay,” Kevin says, sticking out his hand. “Kevin Keller.”

“Veronica Lodge,” she says, shaking it with a smile. “Let’s be best friends.”

Veronica becomes immediately distracted from her new best friend when Archie joins them. He introduces himself to her with more than his usual level of charm, and Betty feels her nails biting into the skin of her palm before she even notices her fingers are clenched into fists. She corrects the action immediately, but stays distracted and uneasy for the duration of Weatherbee’s speech. She comes back to herself when he says her name, reciting it in a list of the counselors and CITs and their corresponding assignments.

“Tables fifteen through twenty will go to Cheryl Blossom, with Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones as her CITs. You’ll be responsible for the campers assigned to those tables.”

Weatherbee lists off a few more sets of names while Betty bemoans her bad luck, then dismisses them for dinner, where she’s in for another surprise.

Jughead Jones, the new kid who kept his mouth shut in a scowl for the duration of Weatherbee’s speech, is surprisingly animated with his campers. Especially the girls. Betty finds herself staring at him more than her food, and eventually gets caught.

“What, do I have ketchup on my face or something?” he asks.

“No,” Betty says, a blush rising on her cheeks. “Just… the kids love you. It’s fun to watch, really. You didn’t seem like the type.”

“I’ve got a little sister,” he says, face remaining neutral until one of the boys at their table steals his beanie with a giggle, and he cracks a smile.

Across the room, it’s taking both Archie and Veronica to quell a food fight that’s brewing at their table. Betty’s heart does somersaults and suddenly, she’s not hungry.

* * *

_“You need to tell him,” Kevin says to Betty when they’re fourteen._

_They’re in a canoe in the middle of the lake, paddles splashing up cool water every now and then, no one else close to them, but Betty still plays dumb._

_“Tell who what?”_

_“Really, Betty? You know who and what. Archie, and the fact that you’ve been crushing on him for several summers now.”_

_If Betty’s being honest, her feelings for Archie have never died with the summer. Every time he texts her during the year, her heart skips a beat._

_“What’s the point, Kev? It’s not like there’s actually a future for us. We don’t live that close together.”_

_Saying it out loud makes it feel more real. If they’re destined to be anything at all, it’s a summer fling, burning out with the last of the campfires._

_“Okay, who said anything about a future? Puberty is clearly doing great things for both of you, and as someone who got the short end of the stick in terms of that particular teenage atrocity, I say you should take advantage. What’s the harm in hooking up for the summer?”_

_“You didn’t get the short end of the stick,” Betty says. Then, she falls silent._

_“Oh my god,” Kevin says. “You really like him. Oh my god, oh my god, do you love him?”_

_“I don’t… I’m not sure.”_

_“Oh, Betty,” Kevin says sympathetically. “You have to tell him, or one day, he’s going to break that huge heart of yours in two.”_

* * *

June ticks on in a haze of arts and crafts, sunburns, friendship bracelets, barbecues, and the perpetual scent of bug spray mixed with lake water mixed with smoke from fire pits. Betty learned long ago that trying to get truly clean at camp is an exercise in futility. Sometimes, she wants to crawl out of her skin. Archie, on the other hand, only seems ten times more attractive with dirt under his fingernails and up his arms 24/7.

Betty and Archie are as close as ever, which is unsurprising to all of their peers. They’re attractive and popular and loved by everyone at Camp Sweetwater, so it’s also unsurprising when they’re announced junior captains of opposing Color Wars teams, a camp tradition that consists of rivalries throughout the summer, culminating with a day of intense competition to announce a winning team. What does come as a shock, though, is the fact that two of the most senior CITs have clicked so well with the newcomers. Sure, Betty’s skin still crawls when Archie and Veronica sit shoulder-to-shoulder at morning announcements, and at talent shows, and at lunch and dinner and campouts and movie nights, but she’s found she has more in common with her bunk-mate than she expected.

They’ve both got dads behind bars, for one, a fact that came out the first time the head counselors gave CITs the night off, and Reggie Mantle makes use of his new fake ID, which becomes somewhat of a tradition.

This time, Veronica insists on dressing Betty beforehand, and even strong-arms her into wearing eyeshadow in addition to her somewhat typical mascara, the only makeup she bothered to pack in her trunk. They’re uninterrupted by campers for once, and are gushing over a good-looking model in one of Veronica’s fashion magazines when they hear Archie shout from outside.

“It’s lake time, ladies!” he yells, and they laugh because they can tell just by his word choice that he’s already tipsy.

The three of them walk to the lake arm-in-arm. Archie’s got his guitar slung over his back, and he starts to strum it before they reach their destination. Veronica’s humming along and then Archie starts belting out a ballad, and Betty has to shush him through laughs so they don’t get in trouble for sneaking over to the lake after dark. When they reach the dock, the other CITs already have a fire burning and beers flowing.

“Betty!” Kevin shouts when she’s close enough for the flames to throw shadows across her face.

He shoves a warm beer into her hand and tugs her away from Archie and Veronica.

“Okay,” he says. “Here’s the deal. We’re a few weeks in to camp, and the clock is ticking. So you’re going to tell Archie how you feel about him, and I’m going to tell Joaquin that I know he’s been into me since last summer, so he can either make a move or stop staring at my ass every time I have lifeguard duty.”

Betty chokes on her beer.

“I don’t know if I can, Kev.”

“Trust me, a few more of those, and you’ll do just fine. He’d be crazy to turn you down, anyway.”

On the other side of the fire pit, Archie’s red hair gleams even in the dark, uncharacteristically flattening with sweat and falling across his forehead as he shotguns a beer with Moose. Veronica and Midge cheer them on. Josie and Valerie chat by the water’s edge. Joaquin stands with several other CITs, and Betty feels unwelcome in all circles until Jughead catches her eye and waves a hand in greeting, so she makes her way over to his group.

He stands slightly off to the side, not exactly removed from the conversation, but not actively contributing to it, either. After working closely with him for the past few weeks, Betty’s come to understand his introverted nature. She wouldn’t call him shy, but he also doesn’t go looking for company when it’s not necessary. In a place that’s typically filled with the shouts of prepubescent kids and one emergency after the next, she’s been grateful for his quiet but steady presence more than once. She gives him a quick side hug hello, and then tunes out the chatter of her friends as she downs what’s left of her beer. She’s focused on Archie, and what she plans to tell him sooner rather than later, but isn’t unaware enough to miss Jughead sneaking glances at her every now and then.

“What’s up, Juggie?” she asks the next time they make fleeting eye contact.

“You seem off tonight,” he says.

“No,” she says with a smile. “Just tired.”

“Betty, trust me, we’ve been wrangling rowdy ten-year-olds together for almost a month now. I know what tired Betty looks like.”

“Fine. I’ve got something on my mind. But it’s no big deal.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

She shrugs and drains her can.

“Either way,” he says. “Looks like we’re both out of beer. Need a new one?”

She nods, and he leads her over to the case of Natty Lights, cracking one open for her before shoving his hands back in his pockets.

“What, you’re done for the night?” she asks.

“I’m not a big drinker,” he says dismissively. “So, what’s going on in that head of yours, Cooper?”

She takes a breath, and honestly, she’s about to bare her soul to him when a slightly softer song starts playing on the wireless speakers Cheryl fired up. Archie catches her eye and smiles, and she knows it’s now or never, so she says, “Be right back,” and walks over to him and puts her arms on his shoulders.

“You need dance lessons,” he jokes when she starts swaying a little off rhythm. But he puts his hands on her hips anyway, and for a second, everything feels right in her world again.

“Can we talk?” she asks when they’ve moved a little further away from the crowd.

“Yeah, sure thing, Betty. About what?”

 _This is it_ , she thinks.

“Us.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Great, actually. I was just thinking, now that we’re both 16, and we’re CITs, and Color Wars captains, maybe it’s time to take our relationship to the next level.”

His face falls, and she feels like the ground drops out from under her, like she’s sinking into the lake, like she’s falling off the rock wall just like last summer.

* * *

_Betty hates having to climb the rock wall, but it’s required of her as a member of the Yellow Team in the final relay race of Color Wars, and far be it for her to let down her teammates. She’s almost to the top, and she’s so nervous that her palms are sweating. She understands now why professionals use chalk. But when she looks down and sees Archie at the front of the line of campers in yellow t-shirts, cheering her on, she feels slightly more confident. So she wills her leg to stretch just a little further, and then puts most of her weight on her left foot, thigh flexing as she reaches up for one of the highest rungs. It’s a mistake. Just before her fingers close around the rock, her left ankle gives out and she goes crashing to the ground._

_She looks down and her ankle is already swelling. Her head swims, but she has just enough wherewithal to register that something is very wrong. Tears prick at her eyes, and she really doesn’t want to cry in front of the whole camp at Color Wars, but the pain is too much and before she can say anything to ease the tension, her face is in her hands and her cheeks are damp._

_Several counselors and campers rush to her side and she’s lifted off in the direction of the nurse’s office. She peeks out from her hands, searching for Archie, needing her best friend to tell her she’ll be okay. She catches sight of him for a minute before she’s swept away, but he’s not even looking at her. He’s deep in conversation with Val, the girl’s hand resting lightly on his forearm as they both laugh._

* * *

Archie lets Betty down easy, but she doesn’t feel any less heartbroken. As she walks away from him, needing some space, she tries to keep her head held high. Kevin sees right through her. The fact that he’s standing hand in hand with Joaquin would normally make her smile, but tonight, it just makes everything feel ten times worse.

He’s got pity written all over his face when he hands her another beer. She doesn’t need him feeling bad for her. She’s Betty Cooper, Camp Sweetwater veteran, Color War captain, winner of the “friendliest” superlative for five consecutive years. But she still downs the beer and then heads off in search of something stronger. Once Reggie’s filled her cup with a mixer and something amber-colored from his hip flask, she feels a little better. She finds herself scanning the crowd for Jughead again without really knowing why. She doesn’t have to look far before he’s at her side.

“Whoa, Betty, I can smell your drink from here.”

“Sorry,” she says, face flushing, but forcing herself to smile through her embarrassment.

“Kidding,” he says, elbowing her lightly in the ribs. “You’re good.”

The smile dies quickly on her face as she relaxes again, and Jughead, astute as ever, doesn’t miss the change.

“Or… are you? Hah, I knew there was something up with you!”

She takes a gulp from her cup, but it doesn’t ward off the tears like she had hoped. Her throat burns and she finds herself crying anyway, shaking her head in an attempt to clear it.

“Oh… Okay, let’s go somewhere else to talk.”

Her crying makes him visibly uncomfortable, but he sticks by her anyway. He’s scanning the tree line for a stump or something to sit her on when she stumbles on drunk feet and goes careening toward the ground. He reacts quickly, wrapping his arm around her waist and keeping her upright. She leans into his side, and he leaves his arm where it is as they walk.

They stop next to a thick maple tree, and she leans against it, still silently shaking her head.

“Talk to me, Betty. Come on. I’m your co-counselor. Let me help.”

“It’s just… Archie.” she sniffles. “It’s stupid.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“I’ve had a huge crush on him for years, and I told him how I felt, and he flat out turned me down,” she says in a rush.

“Ah.”

He reaches up to adjust his beanie, feeling more ill-equipped to handle this situation by the second, and before Betty can stop herself, her alcohol-addled brain is propelling her forward and resting her hand on his chest.

“It’s okay, Jug. It’s not your problem. And I was stupid to think Archie would ever wanna be anything more than friends.”

“Hey, Betty, you’re one of the smartest people I know. It’s Archie who’s not thinking, not you.”

Her hand fists in his shirt and she tilts her head to meet his eyes, gleaming blue in the moonlight. Her stomach swoops in a way she’s unaccustomed to. She doesn’t feel jittery, per se. She feels… calm. More so than she has in a long time. So before she can think too much, she lets herself lean closer to him. Her cheek hits his chest and after a moment’s hesitation, his arms go around her, one hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. She slides down against the tree, bark rubbing painfully against her bare back, and he goes with her.

“You don’t have to stay here,” she says after a few minutes have slipped away in silence.

“It’s okay. If you want company, I don’t mind.”

“I should just go back to my cabin,” she says, pushing herself up.

“Oh, okay. Um… I’ll just head back, then.”

She realizes she might have just rejected his company a little too harshly, and considering she and Archie likely have a bumpy road ahead of them, she figures she should keep her other friends close.

“You can walk with me,” she blurts. “Only if you want.”

They head off in the direction of her cabin in comfortable silence. The fields are quiet for once, and although it’s dark and shadowy, the space doesn’t feel eerie. This is her home, and Jughead’s barely-audible steps next to her provide a peaceful beat to walk to. She sits down on the porch of her cabin when they get there, and he joins her without question.

“Thank you,” she says.

“Sure thing, Betts.”

“You’ve been really nice to me, Jug, and I appreciate it. And I feel like we work really well together. I’m glad we met.”

He’s quiet, but not in a way that makes her feel ignored. Still, she wishes she could read his thoughts a little better. That’s when she realizes how little they really know about each other.

“Jug?”

“Mhmm?”

“What brought you to Camp Sweetwater?”

“The awesome paycheck.”

They make minimum wage. She cracks a smile despite herself.

“Seriously, Jug. Not many people join the staff without being a camper first.”

“Okay,” he says. “If you must know, I was looking for a job with housing, and they’re not exactly easy to find when you’re sixteen.”

“Wanted to get away for the summer?”

“Not ‘away,’ exactly. Just… somewhere. I’m wasn’t really living at home this past year.”

“Not living at home? Where have you been living?”

“Couch surfed for a while. Crashed at my old job at a drive-in movie booth for a while, before the place got shut down. Was doing fine living at school, until summer came of course, ‘cause they keep the place locked most of the time.”

“Why?” she asks, mildly horrified.

Her relationship with her parents has certainly been fraught. There’s nothing she wouldn’t expect from her father at this point, but she doesn’t think her mother would ever leave her on the streets. He sighs, taking his time to remove the beanie from his head, run his fingers through his hair, and then carefully replace it.

“My mom and sister flew the coop just over a year ago. Couldn’t take living with my dad. I stayed behind, half to keep an eye on him, half because my mom didn’t exactly ask me to come with her. Dad’s an alcoholic, though, so sometimes he gets angry, and more often than not, he doesn’t pay the bills. It was just better to live on my own.”

“Juggie, I didn’t know,” she says, touching his arm for the second time that night.

“I told you I had a sister,” he says wryly. He did, but other than that, he’s certainly never disclosed this much about himself to anyone at Camp Sweetwater. To anyone at all, really.

“If it makes you feel any better, my home life isn’t exactly great at the moment either,” she confesses.

“Why would that make me feel better?”

She shrugs.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Usually, no, I don’t. But seeing as you just opened the cover of the Jughead Jones book…”

“You don’t owe me your life story, Betty. I just told you something about me because… I guess I feel comfortable around you. We’re friends. And that’s what friends do, right?”

She contemplates for a moment. Archie is her friend. He’s been her best friend for her whole life - and she still holds him close to her heart. But for as many secrets as they’ve traded, as many times as they’ve leaned on one another, there was always something that felt slightly awkward underneath it all. Betty always chalked it up to the distance. Now, she’s not so sure. She feels a bond with Jughead, and even Veronica, for that matter, that it took years and years to cultivate with Archie.

“Right,” she tells him. “So my dad was arrested a couple months back.”

“Been there,” he says, surprising her.

She can’t help but raise her eyebrows in surprise, wondering what the odds are that her two newest friends have also experienced the incarceration of a father.

“Yeah,” he says. “He runs with a gang. Not a bad group, necessarily, but sometimes violent and usually dealing drugs. Dad’s been busted a couple of times.”

Betty can’t help but let out a short, mirthless laugh.

“My dad’s in for manslaughter.”

“Oh, wow. Betts, I didn’t…”

“He murdered a whole bunch of people in my town. A girl in my class, even. He was psychotic. Said he was doing it all to ‘cleanse the town of sinners,’ whatever the hell that meant. He didn’t stop until confessing to me and my mom. He was gonna kill us all. He…”

She’s reliving it now, hearing him through the voice-changer on the other end of the line, watching him wrap his hands around her mother’s throat, and she can’t resist the urge to curl her fingers into her palms any longer. _This is camp!_ She thinks. _It’s supposed to be fun!_ But now it’s tainted with the true legacy of the Cooper family, not as generations of kid-friendly camp counselors, but as cold-blooded killers.

It’s like Jughead’s reading her mind when he says, “It’ll be okay, Betts.” He takes her fists in his hands. “I know what it’s like to need something else, anything else, on your mind.” Uncurls her fingers. “From here on out, you’re gonna have nothing but fun memories this summer.”

She nods and drops her head to his shoulder, thinking about how nice it would be to fill the tape that’s been repeating in her mind with a few more light-hearted scenes, but worrying that it won’t be possible.

* * *

Jughead proves that it is.

The next day, he slides a plate of buttered toast under her nose at their table in the dining hall, smiley face drawn on in cinnamon sugar. She laughs, and his eyes glint with happiness and a hint of mischief. After that, she laughs a lot more. She finds it’s not as hard as she thought it might be to mend fences with Archie. She starts to feel less and less sick when he flirts openly with Veronica, and more and more supportive. She tells her brunette counterpart as much one day as they sit on the dock, legs in the water as they keep an eye on their campers. Veronica is staring at Archie so intently that she tunes Betty out.

“V,” Betty says, lightly elbowing Veronica in the ribs.

“Yeah! Wait, what?”

Betty laughs. She was raving about the Toni Morrison book she read while she was on call for the past few nights, but Veronica clearly didn’t hear a word. Betty doesn’t mind. She already got Jughead’s two cents on the plot, which are arguably more valuable than Veronica’s.

“You’re practically drooling,” Betty teases.

“I am not! Veronica Lodge doesn’t drool.”

“What does she do, then?”

“She… admires. Is that okay?”

“Yes, V, it’s perfectly fine. Archie and I are just friends.”

“Are you sure? Sometimes I feel like there might be something more, but you’re not telling me because, well, I don’t know why.”

“Okay, full disclosure, I definitely thought we could have been something more for a while. But I told him how I felt, and he said he wasn’t interested. I was upset at first, but I’ve been able to talk it out and work through it, and I honestly believe it’s all for the best. We’re better as friends. I think I might have been more infatuated with the _idea_ of him.”

“If you’re sure.” Veronica sounds weary.

“I am.”

“So… who have you been ‘talking it out’ with?”

“What?” Betty asks, caught off guard.

“Who’s the mystery best friend you’ve been hiding from me?”

“Oh.” Betty laughs airily. “Just Jughead. He was there for me the night Archie turned me down. I’d still be a mess if it wasn’t for him.”

She smiles despite herself, and kicks her legs in the water, letting the conversation die naturally. Veronica, however, isn’t willing to let it go so easily.

“So tall, dark, and handsome over there has been your shoulder to cry on?” Veronica asks, casting a glance at Jughead treading water in the roped-off section of the lake beyond the dock.

“It’s not like that.”

Veronica’s opening her mouth, surely to rebuttal, when Archie pops his head up from the water in front of them and spits a mouthful of water in Veronica’s direction. She shrieks, and jumps in as he paddles away, causing a scene that’s got several nearby campers laughing. It catches Jughead’s attention, too, and he swims over to Betty. She’s got her head tipped back so the sun can dry her hair, cheeks slowly reddening in the heat. Jughead takes a different approach to getting her attention than Archie did with Veronica, lightly resting his hands on her knees, using her legs to keep himself afloat.

“Hey, Juggie,” she says, smiling down at him.

“Come on in,” he suggests.

“I’m just drying off!”

He’s trying to think of something more convincing to say when Archie calls out to them, now standing in the shallow section of the lake with Veronica on his shoulders.

“Jug, chicken fight!” he yells

“What do you say, Betts?” Jughead asks. “Help me kick their asses?”

Betty’s always had a competitive spirit, so that’s all it takes to get her sliding into the water and racing Jughead toward the shore. When they arrive (her just barely in the lead), he ducks back under water and she settles on his shoulders.

Once he stands up straight and she secures her balance, the first thought she has is that she’s glad she took the extra time to shave her legs in the shower that morning, even though they’re usually pretty frugal with water at camp.

Her second thought is that she really, really wants to run her fingers through his hair. When he takes a step forward, she nearly topples back into the water, so she gives in and fists his curls.

“Ready?” he asks.

“You know it.”

By the time the lifeguard on duty whistles for everyone to clear the lake for the day, Betty and Jughead are five for five, and Archie’s palms are red from slapping the surface of the water in frustration. When the four of them finally call the game off, surrounded by a circle of cheering campers, Betty’s so high on the feeling of victory that she wraps her arms and legs around Jughead in the water and buries her face in his neck. If Archie and Veronica think it’s strange, they don’t say anything. Jughead just pumps his fist in the air, and she takes her time disentangling herself from him. She’s about to take her arms off his shoulders when he ducks underwater one more time, scooping her up in his arms and dunking her head back under.

“Jug!” she sputters when he lets her up for air. “You’re gonna drown me!”

He just smirks down at her, knowing he’s not really in trouble, and carries her out of the lake bridal style. Their campers clamor to their towels after them, and Archie and Veronica join them on shore once the lake is free of children.

Jughead puts her down by her towel, but doesn’t really seem to want to let her go. She almost winces at the loss of contact when he finally pulls away, and focuses on warming herself with her towel. The sun is dropping in the sky and there’s a light breeze picking up. She shivers, and Jughead comes back over, towel hanging over his shoulders, and starts rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

“Cold?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

He wraps his arms around her from behind, and as she leans into his chest, the rest of the world disappears for a second.

“Uh, guys?” Veronica asks.

Betty’s eyes shoot open, but Jughead doesn’t let go.

“What’s up, Veronica?” Jughead asks, seemingly indifferent to their slightly compromising position.

“Nothing.” She smiles knowingly. “See you at dinner.”

* * *

It’s July by the time their days off line up, and Betty is giddy about spending a full day with Jughead, uninterrupted by campers. He makes her happy. She tries not to read too much into it, but it’s hard with Veronica constantly dropping hints about “Bughead.”

It’s not like they haven’t been spending time together. Breakfast is spent monitoring the toasters (it’s become a trend to put cheese in there, stalling the whole toasting process for minutes on end). When their campers have lake time, she lies with her head in his lap and they exchange stories about home. At the ropes course, they bond over their mutual love of New York Times crossword puzzles. Lunch is dedicated to making sure no one gets peanut butter in their hair. They sit next to each other at staff meetings, camp announcements, movie nights, and bonfires. At dinner, when one of them has dish duty, the other sticks around to help.

Meanwhile, Veronica and Archie have bonded in a more carnal way. They’ve taken to kissing in public, unfazed by the hoots and hollers of campers and counselors in the vicinity. It’s not that Betty minds, but she’s looking forward to one single day without having to witness their PDA. So when her day off comes and she heads to meet Jughead in the parking lot, it’s with a spring in her step.

Still, she pulls up short when she sees him leaning against his motorcycle, one helmet strapped to his head and another in his hands.

“Oh, no,” she says. “No way, Juggie. I’m driving.”

“It’s too nice outside to be trapped in the confines of a car!” he says, tossing her a helmet and winking.

“You’re dramatic,” she says, but she’s already strapping on the helmet without so much as a fight.

He straddles the seat and turns the key in the ignition before turning to her.

“Climb on,” he says.

She does, the yellow sundress she has on over her swimsuit riding up her thighs. He doesn’t have to tell her to hold on. Her arms are already firmly wrapped around his waist.

She shouts directions in his ear until they end up on the side of the road near a thick clump of trees. There are a few cars already parked in the grass, but not enough for her to think her favorite swimming spot will be crowded.

They walk the short distance through the woods in comfortable silence. Tall grass tickles her calves and the sun breaks through the trees just enough to warm her shoulders. She glances down at at her side, hand swinging loosely next to Jughead’s, and gets the sudden urge to lace her fingers with his.

 _Just do it_ , she thinks.

But he catches her looking down, so she just bumps his hip with hers and starts running down the slope. It’s more of a canter, really, since she has to strategically avoid rocks in flip-flop clad feet, but he laughs as he chases her. She figures some chipped nail polish is a worthy price to pay.

They both come skidding to a stop at the precipice of the hill they’re standing on at the midpoint of Buttermilk Falls, the waterfall Betty’s dad gave her top-secret directions to at the beginning of the summer a few years earlier.

“Wow,” Jughead says.

“Nothing like this in the big city?” Betty asks.

“Toledo is far from big, Betts.”

“Bigger than Riverdale.”

“Well, I’ve definitely never been swimming in a waterfall before,” he says. “You gonna show me how it’s done?”

“Don’t worry, Jones,” she says with a smirk. “I’ll show you the ropes.”

As it turns out, she’s not speaking figuratively.

After peeling off her dress and leaving it in a pile with her shoes, Betty strategically climbs down the slope to a rock that juts out over a pool of water separating the top and bottom halves of the waterfall. The slope of the falls isn’t very steep, but she’s still careful to get her footing before taking a running start and launching herself into the pool. She pops her head up momentarily to wave at Jughead, but he doesn’t react, too busy admiring the way her hair still looks blonde and bright even when it’s wet. And the strong curve of her shoulders bobbing in and out of his view as she treads water. And further down, the cleavage that’s on full display thanks to her practical but revealing bikini. By the time he lifts his hand lamely from his side, she’s disappeared.

“Betts?” he calls after a few seconds. “Betty!”

He’s throwing his shirt to the ground when he hears her whoop, then catches sight of her further down the line of the waterfall, swinging on a rope before flailing into the cool water below. He smiles at her antics, not even the slightest bit annoyed that she might have made him think she was dead for a second. If Toni had pulled something like that on him back home, he definitely would not have found it cute.

That’s when he realizes exactly how infatuated he’s become with Betty Cooper over the course of the summer. When he was first applying to be a camp counselor, he did not see himself enjoying the job. He needed a place to sleep, a consistent paycheck, and to avoid his father for as long as possible. At Camp Sweetwater, he got more. He’s found out that despite his cynicism, he actually _likes_ looking after kids. He likes seeing them all so happy and carefree, a far cry from his own childhood. He’s found out that he’s surprisingly good at administering gimp, the rubbery material all the girls use to box stitch lanyards. He’s also found out that the highly-coveted strands goes by many names, including boondoggle, which he refuses to say out loud on the grounds of sounding ridiculous. He’s found out he likes listening to Archie play the guitar in their bunk, even if his music is a little too slow for Jughead’s taste.

And he’s found out that he wants to spend every possible minute with Betty Cooper. She’s like a ray of sunshine breaking through the dark clouds that seem to coat his life. She’s smart and self-assured and she can match his wit when she wants to. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t hesitate before diving headfirst into the water.

He finds the slope she must have slid down to reach the lower pool and the rope swing with ease, and takes that without hesitation, too. He doesn’t pause before scaling the wet rocks to grab the rope, or before launching himself into a cannonball and landing with a splash in the water next to her. He doesn’t think twice as he creates waves in her direction with his hands, or as he chases after her when she tries to swim away. She makes the mistake of putting her feet down and trying to run when she gets to the shallower part of the pool by the bottom of the waterfall, and he reaches her in a few strokes after that. His arms act on their own accord as they wrap around her waist and pull her to his chest.

That’s when he finally falters.

She stops fighting and turns around, palms coming to rest on the smooth planes of his chest. They’re standing in front of the waterfall, so close they can feel it spraying them with surprisingly clean droplets, and all he can think about is how beautiful she looks, wet hair tangling at her shoulders, looking like a Naiad straight out of Greek mythology, framed perfectly by the cascading streams of water.

“Betty,” he says. “I just wanted to say… how much fun I’ve had this summer, being your co-counselor. I’m really glad we got paired up.”

“Me, too,” she says. “I don’t know how I would have handled Cheryl on my own.”

“And… also…”

“What?” she asks, arching her eyebrow. “What?”

For the first time in his life, Jughead Jones is at a loss for words. So he takes her face in her hands and kisses her like he’s trying to express everything he can’t figure out how to write down or speak aloud. It’s like he’s had writer’s block his whole life, and she’s the cure.

She loses herself in the kiss, in the feeling of his calloused hands on her cheeks, the steady pressure of his lips on hers. It’s soft and gentle and loving and not at all what she thought her first _real_ kiss would be like. She’s always been able to see shocking similarities between Archie and an excited golden retriever. She guesses that’s why she always imagined it would be a little more… sloppy.

“The bike!” she says suddenly.

“Wow,” he says. “That’s what you’re thinking about in the middle of our moment?”

“I forgot that we’re not supposed to park there for too long! The cops come by and give tickets!”

“I don’t care,” he says. “I’ll pay a thousand parking tickets if it means I get to stay here with you.”

* * *

Betty and Jughead don’t become _BettyandJughead_ all at once. It’s a slow process. They both value their jobs at Camp Sweetwater, so they’re especially careful to keep the physical aspects of their relationship under wraps in front of the campers. They’re also both relatively private people, so they don’t exactly make a formal announcement when they get back from their day off. Nevertheless, the other CITs are onto them quickly.

Jughead puts his arm around Betty’s shoulders when she stresses about Cheryl’s demands as her head counselor, and Veronica arches an eyebrow. Betty takes Jughead’s hand one day when the mail comes and he sees his father’s name in the corner of an envelope on the top of the pile, and Archie’s jaw drops.

Naturally, Veronica is the first one to broach the subject out loud. The CITs are walking back from a meeting after lights out one night, and Betty’s tired and happy and there’s finally a breeze amidst the muggy heat and fireflies are dancing around their heads, so she leans into Jughead and pulls his arm comfortably around her shoulders.

“Okay, are we all still really ignoring this?” Veronica asks, turning around to face her friends and walking backwards.

“What?” Betty asks, unable to ignore Veronica’s eyes boring into her soul.

“You and Jughead! You guys are fucking, right?”

Betty feels the discomfort radiating off of Jughead in waves as he takes a step away from her.

“Veronica!” she exclaims, still surprised by her roommate’s bluntness, even after weeks of bunking with her.

“Oh, come on, I’m dying to know, girl! Something is different with you guys. It’s obvious. Right, Archie?”

Archie casts his gaze to the ground and Jughead rubs at the back of his neck.

 _Boys_ , Betty thinks, but her face flames in embarrassment anyway. The truth is, while she and Jughead have definitely crossed into PG-13 territory, Betty remains a virgin. It’s not something she’s typically self-conscious about, but she’s also not excited by the idea of disclosing that fact to her more experienced friend.

“We’re… together,” Betty settles on, glancing at Jughead for approval.

He nods eagerly, clearly relieved by her response. Spurred on by the grin Jughead is clearly trying to stifle, Betty rises on tiptoe and kisses him on the lips. He catches her by the waist but doesn’t stop walking, moving her backwards as he swipes his tongue playfully across her bottom lip.

She smiles, feeling surprisingly lighter now that they’ve discussed their relationship (if you could call it that) out loud.

“Okay, relax, you two,” Veronica says.

Betty and Jughead are clearly on the same wavelength when it comes to Veronica’s hypocrisy, because when Betty takes a risk and jumps into Jughead’s arms, wrapping her legs around his hips for support, he catches her with ease and slides his hands under her ass, deepening their kiss. She opens her mouth to grant him entry when Archie starts to make retching noises, earning a laugh from Veronica.

 _Two peas_ , Betty thinks.

“I really don’t need to see my two best friends smashing faces,” Archie says.

“Best friends?” Jughead asks, retuning Betty to her feet. “Easy there, Arch. I’m taken.”

* * *

The summer heat starts to break in the early evening once August rolls around. Campers and counselors alike dig out their sweatshirts when the sun goes down, staying outside as late as possible in desperate attempts to make their summers last longer. Because with only three weeks left of camp, no one is ready to face the real world again. Especially not Betty and Jughead. Betty is returning to a a pile of summer assignments, an even bigger mountain of repressed feelings about the arrest of her dad and his atrocious crimes, and a haunted home. Jughead is returning to no home at all.

Lately, Betty hasn’t been able to stop herself from digging her fingernails into the soft skin of her palms. And Jughead’s been acting more introverted than usual. So much so that the two of them remain seated in silence by the dying fire long after the other CITs have led the campers off to bed. They’ve finally run out of ways to avoid the inevitable. When Jughead tries to take Betty’s hand, he finds it sticky with blood. Her heart drops to her stomach and her instinct is to pull away in embarrassment, but something stops her.

“Betty,” he says, slowly turning her palm over in his.

“It’s an anxious habit,” she says before he can ask.

He sighs, feeling defeated, but relinks their hands anyway.

“Come on,” he says. “We should get some antiseptic on these. I’ve got a first aid kit in my bunk.”

Thankfully, Archie isn’t home, likely having snuck over to Betty’s bunk to meet up with Veronica. Betty fights the urge to allow her nails to find the open wounds on her palms, and her hands shake with the effort. The shimmering fairytale summer she’s been living seems so close to shattering around her, revealing a dull and ugly reality. She doesn’t want to go home to a despondent mother and a house tainted by her father. She doesn’t want to read his name in the headlines every morning. She doesn’t want to revert to checking her phone in terror every minute. She doesn’t want to face the music that she likely won’t be welcomed back to her cheerleading squad, to the school in general.

She’s spiraling, that’s for sure, and when she catches Jughead saying, “This might sting a little, Betts,” she’s reminded of the other thing that’ll be wrong with her life at home. That’s something she just can’t face right now.

Then, the bite of the antiseptic is snapping her back to her senses, and she’s sitting on the bottom bunk bed with Jughead crouched between her knees, gently dabbing at her palms, and she can smell the pine trees all around her and hear the cicadas buzzing through the mesh of the cabin’s windows. Suddenly, the things she’ll be missing more than usual at the end of the summer have a face and a name and a beanie and a scent like wood chips and hand sanitizer and the lemon soap they use in the dining hall and leather and are currently placing far too many bandaids on her hands.

“Betty, I know we haven’t really known each other all that long, but I … um … I,” he trips over his words and she can tell he’s out of his element, so she gives him time to collect his thoughts. “I just really care about you,” he settles on. “And I’m not really someone who knows… what to do with that… in a situation like this. I mostly do things on my own, look out for myself, but I wanna look out for you, too. So if something’s wrong… you know… you can tell me. And maybe I can help you. I _want_ to help you.”

“That’s sweet, Juggie,” she says softly. “But it’s nothing you can fix.”

“Your dad?” he guesses.

“That’s part of it.” She nods. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had to stay home this summer, in that house, where he planned such horrible things, where he tried to kill me and my mom, where he… he _tormented_ me, Jug. He was my _dad_. He was supposed to protect me from the monsters, but instead…”

“Hey,” he says, “sometimes we have to protect ourselves.”

“You protect me,” she says. “You protect me from myself. And in a few weeks, I’ll be on my own again.”

Now that she’s said it, now that it’s out in the open, the truth hangs around them like a veil. And the truth is, their relationship has an expiration date.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he whispers, like it’s a secret.

Betty laughs, and the tears that have been welling finally make their escape down her cheeks. She drops her forehead to his.

“You’re the best person I’ve ever met,” she says. “There’s no one like you at home.”

“There’s no one like you anywhere, Betty Cooper.”

“We can visit each other,” she says desperately.

He pulls back and nods several times in quick succession.

“It’s a trek, but I have the bike. I can stop overnight somewhere. We can meet in the middle. Or, I can just come to you. My school’s curriculum is a joke. I can afford to miss a few days.”

“And I can borrow my mom’s car on long weekends. Any weekend, really. We’ll make it work.”

They’re both half-delirious with fantasies of road trips and late night rendezvous and “making it work,” so instead of talking in circles and eventually realizing daydreams rarely become reality, Jughead, ever the realist, silences Betty with a kiss.

He pushes up on his haunches, lips connecting with hers so ferociously he worries he might be hurting her, which is ironic considering the delicate way he handled her cuts just minutes before. But she’s moaning into his mouth and lacing her fingers through his hair, pushing his beanie off and carelessly letting it fall to the floor, so he rises completely, only breaking their kiss to remove his shirt. When he’s resettled above her on the bed barely big enough for one, head close to slamming Archie’s bed above him, he pauses to look her in the eye, taking in the elegant curve of her jaw and the way her chest heaves ever so slightly. The way her faded camp t-shirt from years ago rides up to reveal a strip of her stomach, kissed by the summer sun. He’s about to say something embarrassingly cheesy when she wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him back down to her, arching her neck to indicate where she wants his mouth. He acquiesces, although he’d rather have his mouth elsewhere - places it’s never been with her in their short time together. He’s busy sucking the skin of her neck just below her earlobe when she rolls over, nearly slamming into the wall pressed against his bunk bed in her effort to straddle his hips. He looks up at her, completely at her mercy, and furrows his eyebrows.

“What?” she asks, lips puffy, hickeys already blooming.

“You’re still wearing your shirt.”

“Oh, well, let me correct that unfortunate oversight.”

Her shirt joins his, and his beanie, on the floor littered with scraps of paper and contraband candy wrappers and other debris that accumulates in a cabin shared by two boys, and his hands find her breasts. She arches her back in pleasure when he starts squeezing, applying just the right amount of pressure, and soon enough, he’s sitting up to unclasp her bra and take her nipple in his mouth.

“Ah, Juggie,” she breathes as he nips and sucks at her chest, grinding her hips against his.

She’s wearing jean shorts, though, and the material, while conducive to friction, doesn’t allow her to feel him the way she wants to. She continues to move her hips in circles, clenching with the upward motion, desperate to make contact with his dick when she comes down.

“Juggie,” she says a little too loudly. “Take off your pants.”

They fumble a little there, teenagers moving into uncharted waters. She rises up on her knees, preoccupied with undoing the button of her shorts, and he desperately tries to slip out of his faded jeans in the small space he occupies between her legs. He hits his head on the headboard. The hair at the top of her now-loose ponytail catches on the metal frame supporting Archie’s bed above Jughead’s. She feels definitively less sexy.

“Jug,” she says, quieter now. “I’m stuck.”

“What?” he says, jeans now around his ankles.

“My hair,” she says, cheeks flaming.

He can’t help but laugh, and she feels better for it. He untangles her with deft hands and removes the elastic that was holding her ponytail in place.

“Did that kill the mood?” she asks.

“Never,” he says. “But just in case…”

His long fingers play at the lace hem of her practical underwear, plain cotton, but at least on the newer side. She nods enthusiastically before he even has to ask for permission. In fact, she practically begs. When he slips a finger inside her already-wet folds, she doesn’t feel uncomfortable. She feels strong. Invincible, even. She’s not embarrassed as his slides another finger in and she starts riding his hand. She never is with him.

“God, you look so sexy right now,” he says.

Then, his thumb finds her clit, and she’s quite literally putty in his hands.

“I need you, Juggie,” she pants. “I need more of you.”

She kisses him, sloppy and quick and full of lust. He pulls away though, grinning wickedly, and that’s the last she sees of his face before he buries his head between her thighs.

His tongue moves excruciatingly slow. He’s deliberate, too, purposeful in every stroke. She thinks she can feel him spelling his name, a trick that’s certainly working on her.

“Not… enough…” she says, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

She yanks his hair hard enough to get him to raise his head, then looks him in the eyes to command, “Condom.”

He’s nodding enthusiastically, kissing her with reckless abandon as he stands and fumbles for his wallet in the pockets of his discarded jeans. She stands with him, not wanting to break the kiss, framing his face with her hands and licking her way up his jaw as he digs around for the foil square. She falls back onto the bunk when he grabs it, and he positions himself above her once more. As he tears at the package, she slips her hand into his boxers and finds he’s already hard. Still, she pumps him once, twice, before he lightly swats her hand away.

“Not tonight,” he says. “I need to be in you, Betty.”

His words, along with his dilated pupils and disheveled hair and lips that taste like her, have the desired effect. He kicks off his boxers completely and sheathes the condom on quickly, saving her the anxiety of having to figure it out.

“Ready?” he asks, biceps flexing as his supports his weight on the mattress.

“Yes,” she says.

She doesn’t have to tell him to go slow. He knows she’s a virgin, and he’s always so careful with her. Usually when they’re fooling around like this, she has to convince him to behave otherwise. This time, though, she loves him for it. It’s uncomfortable at first, being so completely and utterly filled with him, but it’s not as bad as she thought it would be. He moves gently, kisses her tenderly, and lets her set the rhythm for a few minutes while her body adjusts to stretch around him. When her face starts to relax, he allows himself to move a little faster, drive into her a little deeper, and when she wraps her legs around his waist and digs her heels into his back, he knows he’s a goner.

Afterwards, he feels bad she didn’t orgasm, but when he tries to get her off with his mouth again, she stops him.

“It’s okay, Juggie, I wasn’t expecting… that,” she says, gesturing meaninglessly as he lies back down next to her. “I feel good, really good, but I’m a little sore.”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks, concern immediately etched all over his face.

“Not at all,” she says, rolling onto her side and pressing a kiss to his lips. “You make me so happy, Jug.”

“You too, Betts. C’mere.”

She flips around, pressing her back to his chest, and falls asleep to the feeling of him combing the tangles out of her hair with his fingers. She feels lighter, but still, somehow, like an apocalypse is on the horizon.

* * *

She manages to ignore the feeling as Color Wars heat up. She and Archie take to teasing and pranking each other in rivalry every chance they get. Glitter sticks to strange places as she and Veronica make banner after banner. She and Jughead start acting more like Archie and Veronica, touching any chance they get, and she can’t get enough of him. Maybe it’s because soon, she won’t be able to have any of him at all.

But, the atmosphere at Camp Sweetwater is filled with excitement and friendly competition as campers practice team cheers and dances and paint each other’s faces, so she vows to make the most of the time she has left. Time flies, though, and before she knows it, the trumpet is blaring the morning of Color Wars, the last full day at camp. She dresses quickly, pulling on athletic shorts, her yellow t-shirt with a “C” for captain drawn on in red marker, matching knee-high socks with yellow stripes at the top, and her near-ruined sneakers. Always one to go the extra mile for team spirit, she takes the time to weave a yellow ribbon through her ponytail and streak two lines of yellow paint across her cheeks before she runs out to meet Jughead at his cabin. Veronica hasn’t even gotten out of bed by the time she’s jogging across the dewy field.

Betty bursts into Jughead’s cabin without so much as a knock, and is greeted by the sight of a shirtless Archie. Well, he’s not completely shirtless, but like many of the boys at camp, he’s cut the sleeves of his t-shirt so severely that most of his torso is on display.

“Sabotage!” He shouts before she can even say good morning. “You’re here to see if you can get the game plan out of us! Well, it’s not gonna work, Cooper.”

“Relax, Arch,” Jughead says, emerging from the bathroom as he pulls his own blue t-shirt over his head. “Our dear Betty is simply here to pick me up for a fancy date at the dining hall.” He crosses the small space to kiss her hello. “Sorry, I still have morning breath.”

She rolls her eyes at his sarcasm, but decides to play along anyway.

“Ah, yes, my fair suitor and I simply must be on our way. Are we forgetting anything, dear?”

He feigns a gasp.

“The children! We must retrieve them post haste!”

He grabs his beanie in one hand and her hand in the other, dragging her out the door, now shouting in a British accent. Archie yells after them that they’re being ridiculous, but when they round up their campers for breakfast, he has them in hysterics.

After breakfast, Betty and Archie stand at the front of the dining hall, commanding their teams follow them to top secret locations to prep for the day. Half the camp follows Betty, ever-loyal Veronica at her heels, and the other half goes with Archie. Jughead waves to her as he follows Archie out, and then she lets herself get swept up in the competition.

Her team finalizes their cheer, and she’s sure their sheer volume and enthusiasm will earn them extra points from the judges. Then, they allocate the line-ups for various activities: dodgeball, kickball, other team sports like tennis and t-ball, archery, the ropes course, relay races by the lake, and tug-of-war.

By the time she sends everyone on their way, she’s already exhausted. She’s fishing around in her drawstring backpack for the schedule of events so she knows where she’s due to supervise when Veronica comes up and bumps her hip.

“Archery,” Veronica says.

“No, Cheryl always supervises archery for, like, the whole day,” Betty says.

“It was a good guess, though,” Veronica jokes.

“Sure,” Betty says, patting Veronica’s arm before finally finding the square of paper she’s been digging for.

“Damn,” Betty says. “I’ve got soccer. That means sprinting up and down the field for an hour and explaining what offsides is as least five times.”

“You’ve got this,” Veronica reminds her. “Don’t stress. Have fun.”

“You’re right. Let’s get a win today.”

“We better, I made a bet with Archie.”

“Do I even want to know what happens to the loser?”

“You do not.”

And with that, Veronica goes off to her assigned sport, and Betty jogs to the soccer field.

By the second half of the game, she’s sweating her ass off and has blown her whistle more times than she can count. She’s got the damned thing in her mouth _again_ and is about to blow when she’s cut off by a flood of cold water.

Betty shrieks and the little soccer players dissolve into laughter, ball forgotten as she whips around, sopping ponytail flicking water at everyone in her general vicinity.

Archie and Jughead stand behind her, holding a now-empty, orange Igloo water jug between them.

“I’m gonna get you for that,” Betty says as seriously as she can manage.

Then she’s chasing Jughead around the field until he lets her catch up, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her off her feet. She fights to find the ground, but he’s just strong enough and tall enough to keep her flailing in the air. When he spins around, there’s Archie, brandishing a water gun. He promptly soaks Betty again.

She’s surrendering in seconds after that, and Jughead mercifully puts her back on the ground.

“I hate you both,” she says.

But she punches Archie’s arm good-naturedly, and when she turns back to Jughead, she accepts his apology kiss.

She’s feeling less forgiving when the last event of the day rolls around and she’s still damp. But, dry or not, she’s determined to win. Her team lost a few more sporting events than she would have liked, but she led them to victory in the spirit match, and they managed to pull ahead of the Blue Team by a few points. Still, their lead is small, so the final event, the tug-of-war, will decide the winner.

Betty and Archie take their places at the front of either side of the knot in the rope, the rest of the CITs behind them. The campers file into formation with the strongest directly behind the CITs, and the counselors gather around to judge the competition.

Weatherbee blows his whistle, and Betty surrenders herself to the inevitability of rope burn, digging her heels into the soft dirt and holding on for dear life. Sure, Archie is strong, but her team is stacked. She’s got Moose directly behind Veronica and Kevin right behind him, and they’re rhythmically calling out “pull,” prompting the campers to imitate their forceful tugs on the rope. Behind Archie, Jughead’s beanie slides off his head.

“Hands on the rope, Jones!” Reggie shouts preemptively at his teammate.

Jughead redoubles his tugging efforts and Archie encourages his team to start walking backwards. It’s looking like they might win when Reggie accidentally elbows Josie in the face and her fall sends a chain of campers in blue t-shirts behind her stumbling as well.

The Yellow Team regains a few feet, but people slowly start dropping on either side of the line spray-painted on the field shortly after. As always, the younger campers give into silliness, several of them wrapping their feet around the rope and dangling above the ground. The remaining CITs and older campers continue to struggle on, until one misstep in a single patch of mud causes Archie to lose his footing. Betty takes immediate advantage of his predicament.

“Pull! Now!”

Miraculously, everyone behind her obeys, even Veronica, and the knot in the rope crosses the line to their side. Jughead holds on a second too long and goes sprawling directly onto Archie, who’s lying face-up on the grass.

“Thought you said you were taken,” Archie quips, still in good spirits despite his loss.

“Har har,” Jughead says as he rolls off.

They’re both so covered in mud, they can’t even blame the troves of campers pointing and laughing at them.

They stare up at the sky as a sea of yellow shirts swarm the field, knowing there’s no saving their pride now. After they spend a few minutes wallowing in defeat, Betty breaks free from her adoring teammates and holds out a hand to each of them. As soon as they’re on their feet, Veronica gives the go-ahead for Moose and Kevin to run over and tip a cooler of ice on their heads.

“Karma’s a bitch,” Betty says as the two boys squirm to release freezing cold ice cubes from their t-shirts.

* * *

There’s a barbecue that evening, a camp-wide event celebrating their last night in the woods. Betty is pleasantly warm from the sunburn on her cheeks and from the comfort of Jughead’s arm slung over her shoulders, but inside she feels cold. Without Color Wars to distract her, the weight of her sadness about leaving camp hits her full force, knocking the wind out of her and leaving her struggling for air. For something to hold onto. For anything, really. Jughead’s promises of visits suddenly feel empty. Even her own reassuring words from the night they had sex feel like lies.

“Come on,” he tells her after scarfing down his third hamburger. “Let’s go for a walk.”

She takes his hand but remains silent as they start their lap around the grounds. They pass the lake, glimmering in the light of the golden hour sun. They pass a row of bunks, one of the ones she lived in when she was a junior camper. They pass the archery range and the rec room and the woodworking shed before he’s finally the one to crack and speak up.

“Is there anything I can do to make you less sad?” he asks.

“No, Juggie,” she says, resigned to her misery.

“Look, I’m not happy about leaving either, Betts. I don’t want to go back to couch surfing and avoiding my dad and being the loner weirdo…”

“You’re not a weirdo,” she says.

“I am. I’m weird.” He cracks a smile. “I’m a weirdo. I mean, have you ever seen me without this stupid hat? That’s weird.”

“I happen to like your stupid hat.”

“And I happen to like _you_. A lot. In fact… I think I may love you, Betty Cooper.”

She’s not silent now. Her breath doesn’t catch in her throat. She doesn’t have to take a minute to compose herself. The next words out of her mouth feel completely natural.

“Jughead Jones, I love you, too.”

And then he’s kissing her and she’s so close to forgetting the feeling of impending doom that’s been hanging over her like a dark cloud. But if even his kiss can’t make her forget, then nothing can.

“This isn’t going to work, Jug,” she says, just barely pulling back enough to disconnect her lips from his. He keeps his arms firmly locked around her back.

“I know,” he says.

“So,” she says, stalling for time. “Maybe we should just say our goodbyes now. Then when we drive away tomorrow, maybe it won’t be as hard.”

“Betty,” he says, and she knows he’s gearing up for some profound speech about what she means to him, and she just can’t hear it.

“I know,” she says, the faintest of smiles playing at her lips. She steps back, and his hands slide down from her back as he interlocks his fingers with hers.

“Goodbye.”

His voice cracks with her heart. When she turns to walk away, everything feels a little more gloomy. The tetherballs look lonely, hanging limply from their poles like islands all on their own. The kayaks resting on the shore of the lake look ominous. Even the shouts of laughter from the rest of the camp as she approaches sound distorted to her now. This whole night feels like a hand wrapping around her throat. Her father’s hand. She reroutes, prepared to spend her last night at Camp Sweetwater buried under the comforter on her bunk, clutching her fan to keep her cool.

If only Jughead hadn’t had the same idea.

They catch sight of one another at the crossroads where the path splits, one leading to the boys’ cabins and one to the girls’. She stares at him for a beat, feet rooted to the ground. He pauses too, beanie gripped in his right hand, his left running through his dark curls. She doesn’t really register the fact that he’s taking long strides toward her. She just watches the beanie fall to the ground as if it’s happening in slow motion, and then he’s in front of her and he’s grabbing her face in his hands and he’s kissing her like he’s never kissed her before, like he’s never kissed anyone before, and a million different emotions are lighting her on fire. She goes to pull back, suddenly furious that he’s making this so hard, but he beats her to the punch.

“We don’t have to do this,” he says.

“Jug…”

“I know it’s not realistic to see each other every weekend. I know it’s not even realistic to see each other more than a few times a year. I know long distance relationships don’t work. I know _relationships_ in general don’t work. But I also know that none of that is a reason for us to split up, or delete each other’s numbers, or start a photo bonfire, or whatever it is we’re doing here. I can’t not know you, Betty.”

“ _I know_ ,” she says, anger boiling over. “But I don’t know if I can do that, Jughead. If I’m never going to see you again, then I need to forget you. I have too many other things on my plate to agonize over without this as well.”

“Well… there’s always next summer.”

_Next summer?_

“What? You… you were just here to make money. You’re not coming back next summer.”

“I might. If there was someone to come back to.”

She feels like she’s floating. Just for a second. For one blissful second, she feels weightless, like nothing can touch her, not even the air she breathes. But just as quickly as it comes, the feeling is gone.

“It’s not enough, Jug. How do you think this will work? We spend the whole year… what? Miserably waiting for summer? I can’t live my life like that. It’d be like standing still all year long.”

“Not waiting,” he says. “Just… hopefully anticipating. Yeah, it’ll give us something to look forward to.”

“This is ridiculous,” she says. “It’s just _camp._ ”

His hands find hers, and her fingernails come away from her palms caked with blood.

“Betty Copper, how could you say that? It’s not ‘just camp.’ It’s a community. It’s a place to feel safe and happy. It’s a home. It’s a _family._ You taught me that.”

She’s crying now, tears falling hot on her cheeks with no breeze in sight to cool her face as she shakes her head.

“It won’t last,” she whispers, barely audible, even in the stillness of the evening air.

“What won’t?”

Her relationship with him. Her friendships with Archie and Veronica and Kevin and all the other CITs. The bliss of this bubble she’s built for herself every summer for as long as she can remember. Her time here. Her family. Love. Everything. Because nothing lasts. Betty Cooper learned that the hard way.

“We can _make it_ last, Betts. Let me show you. Please.”

“I don’t know,” she chokes out. But she’s already stepping toward him.

“I promised you I’d give you nothing but fun memories this summer. So if you tell me now this isn’t something you want, that you really want to break up and never see me again, that that would be easier, I’ll respect that. I’ll go to sleep early and I’ll drive home first thing in the morning. And you can delete my number and forget all about me.”

“That’s not what I want,” she says, wrapping her arms around his waist, desperate not to push him away anymore. If he’s willing to fight for them, so is she.

“Me neither,” he says. “Because even if all we have is a few months every summer, it’ll be worth it. _You’re_ worth it.”

* * *

The next morning, Betty wakes up hungover, but not so much so that it ruins her good mood. She’s going home today. But she’ll be fine.

She smells dirt and moss and lake water before she realizes she’s outside, lying on a blanket with her head pillowed on Jughead’s arm. After the barbecue, when all the campers were safely in their cabins, the head counselors and the CITs said their goodbyes with one last, huge party in the woods. By the time she and Jughead joined them, her tears were dry, and Veronica had made sure her campers were corralled into bed without Cheryl ever noticing she was gone. Betty thanked her roommate with far too many rounds of shots and far too sappy goodbye speeches. She laughed with Archie as he strummed his guitar while perched on a log by the fire, Betty softly singing along at his feet, knees tucked to her chest and wood chips sticking to her thighs. She played flip cup with Jughead and made him piggyback her everywhere when his team lost and barely stopped touching him all night. She let him drag her off every now and again for some privacy. And when everyone finally started dropping off to sleep right there on the forest floor, she fell into a peaceful slumber, too.

They start rising with the sun and slowly make their way toward the showers. She and Veronica part with Jughead and Archie at the spot where she almost ruined everything last night, but the way Jughead smiles at her before turning away makes her think she’s not beyond salvation.

Everyone shows up to breakfast with wet hair and bleary eyes, but they have smiles on their faces. The dining hall is organized chaos, with everyone rushing around to say their final goodbyes, and before Betty knows it, it’s mid afternoon and she’s closing the trunk of her car and turning around to hug her friends for the last time in the foreseeable future.

She makes relatively quick work of her goodbyes, not wanting to do something stupid like cry. She promises Veronica she’ll text her for daily wardrobe advice and performs the handshake with Archie they made up when they were kids. Cars pull away. Dust settles. And then it’s just her and Jughead.

“So,” she says.

“So.”

“I love you,” she says. “So much. More than I should.”

“You rebel,” he says, and then he kisses her long and lingering.

“I love you, too,” he says when they break apart. “See you next summer.”

“I can’t wait.”

Five minutes into her drive, when she’s stopped at a red light just before getting onto the highway, he sends her a video titled “Rope Swing Fail Compilation” with the accompanying message “you at the waterfall.”

She laughs out loud at the memory, secure in the knowledge that she was graceful in her dismount, turns up her car radio, and loses sight of Camp Sweetwater in her rearview mirror. But she holds on to the memory of _him._ She can wait. As long as it takes. Until next summer.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I put this note at the end because I know it's gonna be a doozy. 
> 
> First off, thank you to my amazing betas and friends, K (@bugggghead) and Tori (@tory-b). This fic represents a lot of firsts for me, one of them being the first time I decided to use a beta (betas). K and Tori were gentle and amazing and held my hand through sprinting and editing and summary writing, which they are far more talented at than I am. 
> 
> This is also the first time I've really written a fic as an engaged member of the fandom. For that, I want to thank everyone in the Bughead Family Discord, who welcomed me with open arms a few months back and who show me love every day. If you're not already a member, check out bugheadfamily.tumblr.com for details on how to get involved.
> 
> This is my first true full-length fic, even though it's still a one shot, which I'm surprised to say I wrote exclusively during sprints on Discord over the course of a month. So, another thank you to everyone I've written with over there. Your support and encouragement and humor (Summer, @SummerRaine14) helped me through this and inspired many lines. ("Boondoggle" goes out to Kellie and "smashing faces" to Tori.)
> 
> The last thing I'll say is that this story is close to my heart as someone who grew up going to sleep away camp. I don't really tend to write from personal experience much, but I sure had a fun time doing it here.


End file.
